The Ghosts of Rome
by Sintendo
Summary: Chief Draghi. The enigma of The Social Welfare Agency is believed to loathe his comrades in arms, Section Two. But behind what appears to be a simple rivalry lies the heart of a shattered man.
1. Chapter 1

**_The Ghosts of Rome_**

**_A Gunslinger Girl fan fiction by:_**

_**Sintendo**_

_**Chapter 1**_

Giulio Draghi sat upright, preserving his posture and mentality; the thought that only a handful of the agents under his control would be allowed to work today did not deter his professionalism. He blamed multiple causes for the lack of any meaningful assignments: the ignorance of his seniors, the incompetence of his advisors; but most of all, he blamed the rapidly advancing group known as Section Two. Though they were allies, Giulio never thought of them as such; only seeing the relationship between his own section, Section One, and Section Two to be purely in name alone. He never despised the actual Section; no, it was the methods they employed. Section two used forbidden technology. Much like the alchemists of old, Section two used techniques that, in Giulio's mind, defied God himself.

This morning's meeting wasn't any different that any other. It consisted of a few assignments handed out to Section Two by several intelligence agents hand-picked by Monica-Maria Petrice herself – meaning they're damn good at what they do – and then a few meager investigations and interrogation assignments given to Section One.

"One more item on this list, gentlemen," Mrs. Petrice called out, just before she was about to call the meeting to an end, "We have a situation in the northern region of Bolzano. Inside sources say that Padania is concocting something that'll be, quote 'able to counter the Government's dolls'. We have reason to believe that they have acquired technology that will allow them to create soldiers similar to our very own cyborgs."

"What's the plan?" Queried an agent.

"This will be a joint operation between Section One and Two; the majority of our forces will be Section One field agents. We don't want to attract too much attention. Chief Draghi?"

The man sat still.

"I'll leave it to you to choose the Section Two Fratello that will accompany your men. The operation begins at the end of the week, which gives you 4 days to choose. That's all for today gentlemen; you are dismissed."

With that, everyone began to rise from their seats and exited the room. Giulio decided to take his time to stroll back to his office. An operation that required the use of both Section One agents and a few Section Two Fratello could give a chance to show what his Section was made of; maybe even using a few sabotages to insure that Section Two executes a fault. But then, he though, how would he be different than that of a terrorist?

Shaking off that god-awful idea from his chest, he sat in his office chair, relaxing a bit before starting the day's paperwork. It would only be an hour before there were knocks at the door.

"Enter." He did not remove his eyes from his work.

In came a blonde haired pair that he recognized as Jean and Rico. A nod of acknowledgement was all that Giulio gave to them.

"Chief Draghi," The blonde man spoke, "I was sent here by Chief Lorenzo to inform you that I will be accompany—"

"Did Lorenzo tell you that it was my decision as to which of you will come along?"

"Yes he did, Chief, but I am willing to volunteer as your back—"

"Where did you learn your manners, boy?" Giulio was firm, but still kept his eyes on his documents, "Did you not hear what I said? My orders are to choose a handful of you people, not the other way around!"

Jean sighed, "It's in your best interest to choose Rico and I, Chief Draghi."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, Chief, it isn't. I am merely stating that out of all the current Fratello, Rico and I hold the most accomplishments."

"I don't like brown-nosers," There was silences, and then, "Who is this 'Rico', by the way?"

"My cyborg."

Giulio spied the blonde girl as she stared at a shelf full of old books. It pained him to see such a young child being used as a doll of his very country.

_If only…, _He thought to himself, _If only they knew the dangers of creatures such as yourself._

It was strange, but for some reason, this girl was not putting off an aura that Giulio usually felt when he ran into one of these creatures. To him, she felt docile, almost as innocent as a normal child. It was intriguing to find such a character within these walls of sin. This very concept only made him the more curiouser.

"You say that you are the best among your peers." Giulio stated, instead of questioning.

"That I am."

"Fine. I'd like for you to fetch your records."

"Rico—"

Giulio stopped the man before he could finish giving out an order, "I specifically requested that you retrieve them." And then, under his breath but loud enough for Jean to hear, "It's shameful for an adult man to ask a young girl to do a favor."

"Right," Jean said, "I'll get them right away. Rico, you stay here and stay out of trouble."

When Jean exited the room, Giulio continued observing the girl, who still laid her eyes upon his own collection of books. His contemplations gave birth to several revelations. He took the time to investigate the background of each Fratello, so he knew that years ago, this girl should have died due to organ failure. Yet here she stood, as normal as any girl. Were it not for the ways the cyborgs were implemented, the project would have his full support and blessing.

But then, what is a handful of lives compared to that of an entire country?

If it were not for her hand reaching for one of his most prized items, he would have fallen into a sort of trance.

"Don't touch that."

The girl quickly retreated from the shelf, still keeping here attention toward it.

Finally, out of curiosity, Giulio asked, "Do you happen to like books?"

The girl shook her head, "No. But I do read. Actually, I've read some of these before, but Claes doesn't have the rest of the series."

"Oh?" Giulio asked, "Which series?"

"The Odyssey."

"Impressive. You've read most of it?"

"Yes. All but the last 4 books."

_How strange, _Giulio thought, _…like a normal child... If only you knew… how much pain your development has caused me…_

_If only you knew the price I payed for playing god...  
_

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Ghosts of Rome**_

**_A Gunslinger Girl fan fiction by:_**

_**Sintendo**_

_**Chapter 2**_

We can never truly say that we dreamed of becoming a member of the Guardia di Finanza; it just sort of happened. Whatever _my_ reason may be, I am now a part of a group of dedicated men and women who, by order of the Italian Government, are charged with the duty of investigating anything that may threaten the finance of this country. Sounds boring, no?

However, things may not seen to be as dull as they appear; dealing with illegal trafficking of many items – including illegal drugs, weapons, and even humans – this line of work provides a new challenge everyday. It may be an unorthodox way of earning a living, but it's much better than having to stay behind a desk all day, I believe. The reactions of anyone who is curious enough to ask about what I do it worth the hard work.

"Damn it, Giulio, now is not a good time to smoke a cigar," Lieutenant Vito barked. Seeing as how there were 10 of us crowded into the back of a large van, he was able to see me reach into my tactical vest and retrieve a steel cylinder.

I responded to his groaning with a smile and opened the steel tube to reveal its sweet contents.

"Woah! He has some Giotto!" A man gasped, "Probably from his girl up north."

I had to force myself not to blush at the though. Indeed a woman had sent me these expensive chocolates, but never would I consider her "my" girl. The commotion over the sender of the candy was hushed when each of my teammates received a piece of the candy to savor. It was an appropriate time for a sweet treat to be shared amongst a group of men who were told that in 10 hour we were to charge into a building full of unknowns.

Our destination was full of an unknown amount of hostile targets with an unknown amount of weapons, an unknown amount of unarmed civilians, an unknown number of explosive materials, and other such unknowns. The only thing we _did_ know, however, was that behind the stone walls of the church – located almost directly in the center of the peaceful coastal city of Taranto – were thousands of kilograms of pure Colombian Cocaine; the street value exceeding the US$100 Billion mark.

The situation at hand reminded me of the American Military training tool called a "Hogan's Alley". Ironically, we only just began using such a tool a few weeks prior to our knowledge of this operation. It was a gigantic stroke of luck that we began implementing this training method; it allowed any man to hone his skills at shooting moving targets quickly, and effectively without harming any hostages. Lt. Vito said that he only needed a single run to understand the damn thing, and we never questioned him about it. Sure enough, he breezed through the alley in a single pass, scoring the highest out of any of us. That's how well we knew each other, trusted each other. We were like brothers. Spending 6 years together, day in, day out for 5 days a week will do that to you. That's probably how they knew of my "friend" in the north. Doesn't bother me though.

With the time at 1300 hours – and with our planned attack launch a mere 9 hours away, I said to my brothers in arms, "Good night, ladies," and huddled in to my own corner of the van.

"G'night, Sarge."

* * *

Other than the different headgear, we were all issued uniform equipment. We wore the same black jumpsuits, black gloves, black boots, carried the same Beretta SCP 70/90 assault carbine, the same Beretta 92FS handgun, and the name number of flash bang grenades (4 each); clones of each other. When you think about it, we were identical in body and mind; exactly like (I said it before) we were brothers.

But then, why is it that I was the only one who actually felt… something for the victims in the firefight?

All things considered, the raid was a complete success. Rooms were swept. Hostiles were eliminated with caution. In a matter of minutes, we were ready to sign papers and write reports. However, things changed when I opened the locks to the inner monastery.

There, within the walls of holy land, stared back dozens of young eyes. Children of all colors, shapes, and physical health were gasping at the sight of an armed man – a killer – something that innocent eyes should never lay upon. But I was frozen solid, still aiming at the head of a child directly before me.

I don't even remember what he said to me, only that when I regained control of my body, I was sitting in the van once more. A flurry of activity surrounded me. Countless ambulances and other Government vehicles and personnel hovered around the church like bees.

"Are you okay?" I heard the familiar voice of Lt. Vito, "Giulio?"

"I think so."

"Well _I_ don't. You haven't blinked for the past 3 hours."

"What time is it?"

He checked his watch, "0130"

"Really?" The rapid passage of time hadn't even occurred to me.

"So what's the matter? I had one of the medics check you out, but you weren't hit or anything."

"I don't know. Hey, Rico?"

"What?"

"Was it… was it just me, or were there kids in the basement of the church?"

Instead of answering, he led me elsewhere. Bad news.

I was used to the sight of a dead body within a body bag, but this incident just forced my stomach to contract; I waited until it was empty of its contents before observing the ghastly image once more. There lay a dying child – I could still see his chest rise and fall from breathing; his innards moving in sync with each rhythmic breath.

The cocaine was there too.


	3. Chapter 3

Along with the ever vigilant Jean/Rico fratello, another team that would help to represent Section Two in this Section One centered mission was a pair of new recruits. According the reports in Guilio's hands, within the first month of their initiation within the SWA, they've completed every assigned outing without a single mishap; which may seem like a small feat to a normal person, but a miracle to anyone who knows how things in the Agency works. Recommended by Mrs. Petrice herself, Guilio could not refuse their gracious offer to fill the open fratello team position.

Their demeanor struck Guilio as an odd one, though. A curious sight; the young blonde girl's near lapis lazuli-like eyes gleamed with no emotion, but with only a hint of eagerness. The young man, however, could have easily blended within the ranks of Section One's men; not that any one of the other handler's could have done the same if they tried, but this particular man was playing the part to a tee. He was not as stern in his appearance as, say, Jean or Chief Lorenzo, and he also carried an air of a carefree attitude; something Guilio treasured, though he himself rarely displaced such an aura.

For security reasons, Guilio was seated against the window in the very back of the airplane cabin to prevent anyone who happens to know who he is from simply walking by and discreetly assassinating the Chief. To his left sat the new girl, followed by her handler (being that their seats were located in first class, they had plenty of personal space). The flight from Rome to Bolzano would only take a few hours, but the old man decided to sink into his leather seat and relax during the flight. A pair of personal headphones, a pillow, and eye shades would help ease him into a short power nap. Settling further into his seat, he couldn't help but notice the girl beside him keeping firm statu_esque_ posture, rather than the stereotypical nervousness he was accustomed to seeing in a child.

"Aren't you nervous?" The pressure of his growing curiosity finally relieved though his mouth.

"No."

He pressed on, "I was nervous during my first flight. Then again, the first flight I ever took was in one of those old propeller powered airplanes. Wouldn't that make you even more nervous? Knowing that there weren't any safety computer systems in the engines?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Well, I can honestly say I was shaking harder than the engines themselves!"

This time there was no response from the girl. It seemed as though her handler paid no heed to their conversation, so Guilio continued.

"What's your name, young lady?"

"Elsa," She answered, "Elsa de Sica."

"Beautiful name you have there."

"Thank you."

"Have you even been to Bolzano?"

"No."

"It's a beautiful city. Your appearance reminds me of the people there. A good portion of their population is made up of Nordic people, so it's not surprising to see lot's of light haired men and women. It also happens to be one of the few places I've lived in before; I stayed there for a few years before moving down here…. Bolzano's a beautiful city… Sometimes I wish I've never left it, so many years ago…"

"Oh."

Guilio chuckled to himself at her responses, noting that all of her answers seemed to be static, almost pre-programmed. Taking another note was the fact that she still did not shudder at the sudden amount of noise and movement; the sudden change in the angle of their seats. It was almost as if the girl were a robot.

He corrected himself with a laugh, _"Cyborgs."_

_**The Ghosts of Rome**_

**_A Gunslinger Girl fan fiction by:_**

_**Sintendo**_

_**Chapter 3**_

During World War II, the mostly German speaking region of South Tyrol – where Bolzano is located - was given a choice: Stay and Italy and assimilate into the Fascist Italian Government, or migrate back to their Nordic homelands. This was known as the "Opzione" or "The Option". As the war progressed, more than 80 of South Tyrol's residents trekked northward and returned to their respective motherlands. Afterwards, when Fascist Italy collapsed, less than a third of 75,000 or some odd number of people returned to South Tyrol. Even though the majority of South Tyroleans – including Bolzanini – speak Italian, it was still good to know German; most signs were written in both languages, but there were many that were written in German only. Luckily for Guilio, German was his second language.

The visiting Roman agents were at home in Bolzano. The majority of the streets were paved with cobblestone, alleyways were narrow, and buildings were as ancient as anything Rome could offer. However, there was an air about them that hinted at a flavor of the old Deutschland. Decorations and ornaments were strictly German and Austrian in design. Fashions were almost as if they were from another country. Even the Italian accents of the locals were a bit odd (one man commented on how he loved Jean's Southern accent). But all-in-all addresses were easy to find and it would only be a matter of minutes before the entire team (consisting of a half dozen Section One operatives, 2 pairs of Fratello, and Guilio) found themselves unpacking in the decently sized loft other agents prepared beforehand.

"Rico, Elsa," Jean said, "You two go out and get familiar with the surroundings while Lauro and I unpack. We're going to be here for a few weeks, so I want you two to memorize each and every street, alley, and building; find good escape routes, hiding places, and other things like that. These R.F. fanatics are everywhere and we don't know what'll happen when they show up, so be prepared."

"I'll escort them around town." Guilio said.

"It's alright, Chief Draghi," Jean said, "Remember, they're cyborgs. They can handle themselves."

Guilio cleared his throat, "You say that the R.F. is around here?"

"Yes they are."

"Well, according to the mission briefing, they are developing something similar to your girls. If they have that technology and information, won't a pair of new faces wandering about stick out like an apple in an onion bin?"

"Well…"

Guilio reassured the man, "You may not know it, but this was my hometown for more than two decades; I know this area well."

"…Ok. Do as you wish."

"You be good now, ok Elsa?" It was the first time Guilio heard Lauro speak.

Guilio nodded, and then said to the girls, "Shall we?"

He exited the room after the young ladies did; like a gentleman.

* * *

With no destination in particular, Guilio lead the pair to and fro; trying to inconspicuously sneak in a portion or two of the flavor of the city so that they would understand the rich culture of his hometown, rather than study it.

This behavior, he noticed, was very unlike him. Oftentimes he'd find himself not caring either way how the cyborgs were treated back at the Agency, but now he finds himself allowing them to sample the local delicacies of sweet desserts and candies and even holding their hands as they crossed busy roads (At first, Elsa was disgusted at the thought of touching Guilio's hand, but then became accustomed to it to the point that she took his hand before they reached a curb. Rico didn't mind at all, however).

It was only when they came upon a group of medieval styled houses that the old man realized why he was so comfortable being around a pair of ungodly chimeras. The building that he had in particular stood out above the crown only in his eyes; its plain exterior was noticeable to him from even a mile away. Other than the gigantic family sign that hung above the door way, nothing helped to accent the building and help it seem unique.

"Waldmann." Rico read the two-tone wood sign, "Do you know them?"

"Yes I do," Guilio sighed, "They're family."

"Did you plan on visiting them?"

"Actually, no."

Contradicting his own statements, Guilio operated the brass door-knocker. The light tapping of the mechanism echoed in his ears louder than the idle street noise from behind; causing him to shudder a bit before straightening himself out once the door slowly opened.

An elderly woman stepped from behind the door to greet the trio; not only with a smile but with a hearty laugh.

"Guilio! I didn't know you were back!"

"It's has been a while, hasn't it mother? Beautiful as always, I see."

After a brief exchange of hugs and kisses, the woman invited them in and served the usual fare of tea, cakes and cookies.

And then things were discussed between the adults. The cyborgs could do nothing but sit and enjoy their snacks (which Elsa concluded to be quite delicious). It was the first time she was able to sit and enjoy homemade sweets, so she kept to her emotionless-self; the conversation – which consisted of current affairs of each adult – didn't interest her anyways. The same could be said for Rico, though she didn't know what the adults were speaking of at all; a small portion of it caught her fancy, however.

"So things have been going smoothly in Rome, I take it?" The Woman asked.

"Yes, very." Guilio responded.

"Have you been… seeing other women?"

Guilio spat out his tea at the sudden question, "Of course not, mother."

"Guilio," She took his hand, "You stated in your wedding vows 'Till death do we part'. You no longer need to call me that."

"Mothe-"

"Ah ah." She waved a finger at his nose.

He smiled, "You're as stubborn as always, Clara."

"It's been 10 years, Guilio."

"I know."

After this, Rico settled into the couch she shared with Elsa. If Guilio was anything like Jean, it would be a while before they would have to get up again.


	4. Chapter 4

_Note: Apologies for the error in the last chapter: Elsa's eyes are GREEN not BLUE. Thanks to Ophelion for pointing that out._

_**The Ghosts of Rome**_

**_A Gunslinger Girl fan fiction by:_**

_**Sintendo**_

_**Chapter 4**_

There are times when a person is pushed through his or her own mental limit, like when a person is forced to kill another, for example. Commonly, regular police officers go to see the district psychologist after they've been forced to use their weapons against somebody, with or without the end result of death. Fully understandable, in my opinion, and anyone and everyone in that predicament should see some sort of psychological help in order to remind themselves that they took the life of a person to save the lives of several others. A noble duty indeed.

Whenever somebody from my line of work has to see a psychologist, however, something extremely traumatic and life altering must have happened. Killing is nearly an everyday occurrence here, so that's not reason enough to visit the ₤600,000 an hour Doctor.

I see the district psychologist everyday (though I have to sheepishly admit, it's not for the latter reasons).

You see, I have been…, for lack of a better word, "courting" the district psychologist, one Tatiana Waldmann, for nearly 4 years now. We met under a strange circumstance that involved me pepper-spraying one of my best friends in the face in order to force him to enter her office. Afterwards, I learned that she was a strong mix of Russo-German descent and probably did not need any of my help. Fast forward years later, and here I am, once again before her office, ready to enter and talk over a small lunch.

How I wish it were so.

Last week's drug raid left me with an empty feeling in my heart. It's not the sight of the dead or dying children that froze my bones solid, no; I see horrific sights like that at least one a month. I really don't know what kind of emotions ran through my mind at this time, nor can any kind of words convey my feeling at this point, save for anxiety, and so I knew that talking to a professional, as well as my good friend, would help me get through this episode.

I had to remind myself that I was a patient today, so sitting on her chair was out of the question. It was the couch for me.

"I read the reports that Rico gave me," She said, "but I want to know exactly what happened in there that compelled you to come to talk to me."

"Other than finding an excuse to see you during work hours?"

"You're wasting taxpayer's money on this session if that's you're plan Guilio."

"I'm a taxpayer too, you know."

"Get to the point, please. What happened in Taranto?"

The rhythmic twiddling of my thumbs served as the only noise for what seemed like hours before I choked out an answer, "I don't know."

"Well at least you aren't lying," She continued before I could respond, "Rico said you were in a daze for a few hours. 'Frozen like an ice cube' he said. Do you happen to remember what you saw before you… blanked out?"

I didn't hesitate to answer, "I saw children."

"Children?"

"A huddled mass in the room; not even cowering at the sight of my weapon, my gas mask, the laser pointing at one of the boy's head… they just didn't care anymore; probably used to the sight of… people like me."

"People like you?" She asked, "You mean a soldier? You wield a gun for the purpose of saving lives. Those human traffickers wield guns for their own selfish goals; the complete polar opposite from you and your team."

She continued, "So why are you starting to doubt your line of duty now? Why not before you joined the Guardia di Finanza? Why question something you've devoted 10 years of your life to?"

"Maybe because it's the first time I-…" I chuckled at the amount of scribbling I heard from above my head when I hesitated, "Maybe it's the first time I thought about the victims. Like, what if those were my children?"

* * *

Tucked away into the corner of the public hospital lay what could be considered a ghost. It was covered in white sheets, moved only once in a while, and nobody dared enter the room it haunted. Of course, it couldn't have been a ghost because it still breathed. It still needed food, and needed its bed pan emptied, and needed desperate medical attention after its horrendous surgery. However, the little boy was fully ignored by everyone but a handful of nurses and the floor's doctor, they only paid him attention to quiet his crying when the pain killers wore off and he was able to feel the void in his belly; tranquilize him as quickly as possible then leave him to die. 

As far as the world was concerned, he was only known only by me.

The hospital was not of poor quality. No, it was, in fact, the premier hospital in all of Rome, being funded directly by the government and all. One cannot say the same for its staff, though, but then again, the boy was a stranger to everyone. Having no name will have that sort of effect.

Whenever I stopped by on one of my daily visits, the boy would be asleep, meaning I never actually had a chance to speak with him. When I questioned his status, his nurses informed me that the boy rarely woke. They've never even seen his eyes open by his own strength. Shame, too, since he was only allowed a few more days until the funding that paid for his bed would eventually run dry and he would be, almost literally, thrown out on the street. Or euthanized…

There was no way I could afford his bills. All seemed lost until on the second to the last day of the boy's pre-paid treatment, Lieutenant Rico unexpectedly stopped by during one of my visits and had a chat with me.

"What's his name?" Rico asked.

"I don't know." I replied with a heavy heart, "How did you know I was here?"

He sighed, "I've been told by a little bird that you've been dropping by here after work everyday. What's up?"

"Somebody has to see this boy off," I shuddered at the words, "I… I don't… I won't feel right if he does."

"Why's that?"

"I think," I paused, but forced myself to continue, "I think this is the child I pointed my weapon at before I blacked out."

I could tell that Rico was searching for the right words to say (He does this thing where he closes his left eye and strokes his blonde chin beard). I gave his a moment to form his thoughts.

"Well, what are you going to do when the government cuts all funding for his life support?"

"I honestly have no clue."

Again, my best friend went into his thinking routine, this time closing the door shut.

"You know," he said, "I'm really not supposed to be saying this…"

"What?"

"Well," he hesitated, and then, "There's this new government program that's in the works that helps terminally ill people in need. They're making a new agency dedicated to finding these kinds of people."

My ears perked, "What? How do you know about this?"

He chuckled, "They're temporarily taking some of the extra space down at HQ until they're allocated some space of their own. Honestly, I don't know why some welfare agency would need an armed complex like ours, an empty office building would suffice, I think. But hey, what can I do?" He shrugged, "I guess they need that kind of protection because they have lots of cash? I don't know… Anyways, they're called the 'Social Welfare Agency'. If you want, I can go talk to their department head and make a suggestion for their first client."


	5. Chapter 5

_**The Ghosts of Rome**_

**_A Gunslinger Girl fan fiction by:_**

_**Sintendo**_

**_Chapter 5_**

Floating within the realm of dreams, Rico only paused in mid-flight to shield her eyes from the glaring sunshine that seemed to grow bright with every passing second. With her eyes closed, hands pressed over them, she was able to hide from the white light for only a few moments before it bled through and filled the entire world in a crimson flare. It was at that moment that her restless flight dwindled in power, and she plummeted into the depths of the red ocean below.

Instantly she sat up in her bed; like a frightened statue, her arms were extended as if trying to avoid hitting the ground. It was then that she realized that she just woke from a nightmare that, while still as vivid as her other dreams, didn't involve the loss of limbs. Though she didn't make any noise (Elsa still lay fast asleep beside her), her throat was parched and sent piercing, needle pricked feelings of pain every time she tried to moisten it with saliva. She needed a glass of water for relief, blaming the air in the north for such discomfort.

The only hint of life coming from the old house was a dimly lit fire in the den, occupied only by a half awake man, whom Rico couldn't identify as of yet. Even though she was curious it was none of her business who the man was, and what he was doing still sitting by the fire used the night before to celebrate the safe arrival of the entire crew, Rico slipped by and into the kitchen, slicing a bit of the still-warm leftover ham, and retrieving a glass of water, quickly consuming both and cleaning after herself. She was careful to be as silent as possible; empty bottles of liquor and beer were strewn about the kitchen counter and floor. Her efforts concluded to be fruitless, though, when, while trying to return the cleaned glass into a cupboard, a dangling empty bottle fell from the counter due to a slight brush of her sweater, and crashed onto the floor. Countless shards of glass spread themselves about the area, surrounding Rico in the corner of the kitchen and, unless she wanted to receive a scolding from Jean (which she didn't), trapped her, naked in a sense of the foot.

"Who's there?" a voice came from the den, belonging to the half-asleep man.

"Uh…" she whispered, "Could you help me? There's glass all over the floor, and I'm barefoot. I'd just walk through, but I don't want anyone finding my blood all over the house."

With a grunt and a bit of a push, the shuffling sounds of the man dragging his feet behind him, but instead of entering the room right away, Rico heard his footsteps slowly fade for a while, then return to her like a boomerang. The man carried in his hand, a broom, which he used to create a path for Rico to walk across, before pushing all of the broken glass and whatever other kinds of debris was in the away into a dustpan.

"Thank you, Chief Draghi." Rico acknowledged him.

"What are you doing up so early, anyways?" He asked.

"Early?" The girl asked.

"Well," Guilio nodded toward the nearest clock, "It's about time for sunrise."

"Oh," The girl pondered, "Well, my throat was dry, so I came here to get some water to drink."

"Hmm," Guilio returned to the darkness of his seat prior, this time pivoting the chair to face a window just past the fireplace, "Would you like to join me and watch the sunrise?"

"I'm actually still supposed in bed…" Rico began, but was quickly interrupted by the obviously drunk man.

"I used to know a man named 'Rico' you know." He said, "Gigantic bear of a man, he was. Why is it that you have such a strong name?"

"I don't know."

"Well, that's alright, I guess. Times are changing after all."

* * *

"Work" didn't officially begin for the Roman Agents, so it wasn't too troublesome for Guilio to be left alone to sleep throughout the day. With a warm blanket place over his shoulders by an unknown person, he was able to drift into a deep slumber. The section one agents, wo were biased of course, didn't mind for their boss to be out for the day, but it didn't sit too well with the section two men, namely Jean, who was mere inches from shaking the old man awake. Why his sudden burst of anger happened, even he didn't know, but it was still downtime for everyone, so the dog lay still for now.

"What did you three do yesterday?" Jean asked his cyborg.

"We walked around town for a while." Rico began, "Chief Draghi also brought us to his mother's house."

"His mother's house?" Jean repeated.

"Actually, it was his wife's mother."

"I see."

"I was able to take note of the area surrounding this building like you ordered, Jean. If you want, I could go take another look, and even modify any possible escape routes for you to be able to go past."

"No, it's fine," Jean mumbled, keeping his eyes on the sleeping old man, "You and Elsa go outside and 'play'. I don't want any of our neighbors getting suspicious about us, considering there are 9 men and only 2 girls…. If anyone asks, the Section 1 men are your uncles."

"Alright," Rico said, and then, "Can I ask you something, Jean?"

"What is it?"

"Chief Draghi was wondering why I was named 'Rico', and that it was a strong name. Do you know why?"

Jean didn't even pause for a moment to think of an answer, and said, "None of your business."

When the children were finally gone, the two handlers began their own conversation.

"They said they went to Draghi's mother-in-law's house, right?" Lauro asked.

"Yeah." Jean said.

"Who would have known that a guy like him is married?"

Jean paused for a moment to allow Lauro to finish his laughter. After his coworker cleared the tears from his eyes and regained his posture, Jean grumbled, "'Was'."

"Huh?"

"He was married; not anymore, though."

* * *

Doing as ordered to do so, the girls went outside and began to play. At first, they played a simple game of "catch: using an old ball that happened to be lying near where they were staying. This eventually evolved into a much more involved game of impromptu dodge ball; the local neighborhood children decided to join in on Rico and Elsa's fun. It was already lunchtime by now, so it made sense to Rico that there was a crowd of adults who were probably on break time, watching the children play their game, even cheering on some of the kids they knew.

When a timeout was called by one of the local children (for a reason Rico or Elsa didn't know), a gentle faced man called out to the Romans, wanting to chat with them a bit before the game resumed.

"Hello," the gentle faced young man said with the friendliest of voices, "I noticed that you moved into that house there yesterday."

"Yes, but we're only here for a few weeks." Elsa said.

"Oh. Well I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay here in Bolzano," He smiled, "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself. My name is Mr. Dubois."

He received Elsa's hand first, and then Rico's; the both of them giving out their own names.

"Quite a grip you have there, Rico and Elsa."

She gave him a conditioned answer, "We're members of the archery club at our school."

"Makes sense," He smiled once again, "Rico… quite an unusual name for a young lady. It does suit you I suppose. Oh well, looks like your new friend is coming back and it's also time for me to be heading back to work. Elsa, Rico, I'll be seeing you around."

When the man disappeared from view, Elsa took Rico's hand, removing from it a sort of flesh colored dot. Luckily for her, the training he underwent at the Agency, as well as her heightened sense of hearing, allowed her to catch the placement of the item.

"He tried to bug us," Elsa said, crushing the object between her fingers, doing the same for the bug that was on her hand, "He's fast."

"Should we report it to Jean?" Rico asked.

Elsa quickly responded, "Not until they call us back in."

The game of dodge ball resumed.


	6. Chapter 6

_**The Ghosts of Rome**_

_**A **__**Gunslinger Girl**__** fan fiction by:**_

_**Sintendo**_

_**Chapter 6**_

"They're going to what?"

My first reaction to the procedure that was about to undergo the boy was rather stomach churning and should never be mentioned again. The statement I made was justice enough.

"It's just part of the agreement," Rico told me with much confidence, "You can't complain though. You don't know how many strings I had to pull in order for this to happen, Giulio. I think it's a miracle for this to be even happening, you know?"

He was right; Even though I can't even imagine it, I heard rumors from my fellow comrades that he literally went upon his knees and begged the new agency's "Chief" to let the boy I watched over be their first assignment.

I still remember the briefing they gave me. Constant medication needed to be applied on a monthly basis, and careful rehabilitation under the constant surveillance of their resident physiologist. Apparently several organs needed to be replaced with donors, so I understood why there was a need for medication and rehabilitation, but the "constant surveillance" part had me confused. I wasn't a doctor, however, and anatomy was never one of my strongest subjects in school, so I took it in stride. I also found it odd that the hospital the boy resided in had to comply with the new Agency and reserve medical equipment and an operation room for us; they simply stepped aside after talking with a few of the agents. Strange, yes, but I knew the power of the government.

Then there was the issue of who the boy belonged to. Of course, I stepped up and, after a few arguments with a man who was assigned to take the boy for some reason; I was awarded custody of him. The victory never really seeped into my skin until it was time to sign several documents. These included his new date of birth, place of residence and other such legalities. It was also time for me to name the boy. It never occurred to me that I'd have to choose the boy's name, and of course, I asked Rico for advice. He politely rejected the offer, and even more adamantly rejected the idea of the boy being named after him. It wasn't a big deal; I didn't want his name to have any particular meaning of symbolism, I'm not that type of person. I just wanted it to be a nice name.

"Tobias."

"What was that?" Rico asked.

"How's that for a name? 'Tobias'?"

"Hell if I know."

"Not too strange and out of place, then again, it isn't too common. I like it. It's German too."

After all was singed and dated, there was only one other loop I had to jump through.

"So," Rico said, "'Tobias' huh? You choose that on purpose or what? It's German you know."

That fact hadn't entered my mind until now.

"How are you going to explain this to Tatiana?"

Of all the things to be delayed by my brain today, this one hurt me the most. Now (as the "slightly-younger-yet-not-of-my-generation" generation might say) we're only dating, and my private life is still my own and she is not to be concerned with it. But many people like to agree with me when I describe myself as a fairly mentally weak man. I wanted everyone to feel content, I'm not selfish. I played out the entire scenario in my head over and over again, and every time it ended with her being angry or worse! Not a very good sign. Still, the time had to come when I had to reveal my new Tobias to her, and whatever the outcome I would respect with all of my heart.

It didn't help at all when, after Tobias' surgery, that we were told that we couldn't visit him during his recovery. I asked why, and they (One of the surgeons, though he sounded like one of my bosses) said he needed rest. Again, I wasn't too keen on what the human body is all about, so after trying to get a peek as they wheeled the boy out, I left with Rico. The ride home was silent; Rico chose to let me decide what to say to Tatiana. He was never really great with the opposite sex.

* * *

As dramatic as things played out in my head, the actual event of me confessing to Tatiana resulted in a less-than-expected reaction. It probably helped that I opted to take her out to one of the fanciest _Ristorantes_ in Rome…. Add to that the fact that I sprung for one of the oldest bottles of wine available, she was able to take my announcement without any fuss.

"That's wonderful!" She beamed, "You're doing a great thing, Giulio."

"Am I?"

"Yes!" She said, "You're helping an unfortunate boy. How could that not be a great idea?"

"Well," I thought, "For one, I never discussed it with you…"

"Do you have to ask me before you do anything?"

I continued, "I have absolutely no idea how to take care of a child…"

"He's almost a teenager. He can take care of himself while you're at work. Giulio, why do you doubt yourself?"

I had no answer for that.

"So," she went on, "When can we visit him?"

"The people at the agency said not for a few days. They probably need to make sure he's ok until he's allowed to be released."

She changed the subject, "This new office, The Social Welfare Agency, was it? They sound like a great program."

"Oh they are," I said proudly, "They're doing all of this for free."

"Free?" She asked, "How is that possible?"

"Maybe we've recently had a major jump in the economy, I'm not sure."

"But right now, even the U.S. is having a hard time. That Regan fellow seems to be turning things around a bit, but I doubt the effects of his policies would even reach us this fast."

"Hell if I know." I shrugged, "Mind you, I still have doubts in my mind. I'm afraid that I just entered a room full of loopholes and full of shady people that I'm going to owe favors to."

"Oh come on," She laughed, "You're just being paranoid."

I sipped the last bit of my expensive wine and said, "I suppose."

* * *

The day had finally come for me to take the boy home. In preparation, I took the time to clean out the guest room of my house, converting it into a regular room. I intentionally left it plain so that Tobias can decorate it himself. I was a teenager once, of course, so I know how a boy his age thinks. At least, I hope he thinks the way I think he'll think….

Donning my best suit, being cleaned shaven, complementing my freshly washed boy with cologne; you'd think I was going out on a romantic date. I always like to dress to impress.

It was no surprise to me that there were a few others in the room with Tobias when I arrived. Obviously a few of the SWA personnel wanted to see him off, but I wasn't expecting the Chief herself to attend. The sight of her nearly stunned me; Rico told me she was young, but I didn't know that she would be around my own age.

"Good afternoon," she extended her arm to me, "Sgt. Giulio Draghi, was it?"

"Yes, ma'am." I didn't know how to formally greet her, so I quickly saluted first, and then received her hand.

"I'll have none of that Sergeant," She smiled, "We aren't part of the military."

My face flushed with redness, "Right."

"So you'll be taking care of this boy from now on, correct?"

"Yes."

"And you're volunteering yourself for this?"

An odd question, but I answered nonetheless, "Yes I am, Ma'am."

"Why is that?"

"Well," I coughed, "He was one of the children my team and I rescued in Taranto."

Her eyes narrowed, "I'm aware of that incident, Giulio. What I want to know is why do you want this boy? Is it pity? Are you that much of a charitable man?"

I hesitated, but then answered with confidence, "I just want to help him. There isn't really any other reason besides that."

"I see," she shrugged a bit, and then "In that case, would you please sign this final set of paperwork?"

Included in the clipboard were several release forms. The last document, however, was a strange one to me. I didn't even know if I should sign it or not, so I asked a question.

"What is this?"

"Just a legal agreement."

I continued reading the form and asked, "What for?"

"Well, we _are_ a government agency," She smiled, "You know how it is; regulations and all…. By signing that document, you are required to bring him into our offices for a bi-monthly check up."

"Seems reasonable." I laughed, quickly entering all the necessary data and signatures where needed on the forms.

Still, I couldn't help but backtrack to my very own words from last night about owing favors from now on. Too many coincidences have been happening in my favor lately, so I couldn't really help but feel a bit more suspicious than normal. Then again, nothing, not even the fine print on these forms indicated that I would have to jump through loopholes with chains attached if I did agree to this.

"Everything's in order," The Chief said after scanning through the documents, "Well then, Sgt. Giulio, we'll be seeing you in two weeks for-" She paused to read something, and then, "We'll be seeing you in two weeks for Tobias' checkup."

With that, The Chief and her entourage quickly left the room. I hadn't realized it until we were alone, but the boy on the bed was already sitting up. To say I was nervous while walking toward his bedside would be an understatement, and it felt like I had to take 30 steps just to move forward an inch. But when I eventually reached his side, every single emotion and thought that I had for the past few days emptied from my entire body.

His face was full of strength and vigor. In only a matter of days, this boy transformed from a sickly, near dead thing into this seemingly normal child. It was nothing short of a miracle.

"Hello," I said to him warmly, "My name is Giulio Draghi."

"Hi."


	7. Chapter 7

_**The Ghosts of Rome**_

_**A **__**Gunslinger Girl**__** fan fiction by:**_

_**Sintendo**_

_**Chapter 7**_

Despite the action that occurred the day before, The Agents separated into several teams under the guise of tourists and began to scour the town according to schedule. It wasn't often that one was paid to roam about one's hometown, but today was Giulio's lucky day. Fortunately still, he was the odd man out when the time came to separate into teams of two and was left to wander the streets alone, though not helpless of course.

The bakery where he once stood among a crowd of hungry workers to buy the freshest bread for his wife was now closed. Though not particularly dilapidated, the building was uncared for as evidenced by the thick coating of dust upon the abandoned shelves from within. When inspected a bit closer, a wave of memories flooded into the old man's mind, and instantly the smell of bread being taken out of wood-fed stoves and the added bonus of the scent of brewed coffee wafted through his nostrils. There were also certain other townsfolk whom would act the same way when passing the old bakery, but these were only few in numbers. They were the ones who lived in the same era as Giulio or who still cared to remember the historic landmark.

But to dwell upon the past was the mistake of a foolish man; Giulio knew this. He constantly reminded himself that, with the near bugging of the two cyborgs the other day, there were now two main objectives that he and the others had to accomplish.

The first and primary task was to find the whereabouts of Padania's answer to Section Two's cyborgs. With Bolzano literally filled with Padania sympathizers, gather information about this secret project of their will be as simple as asking around, knowing the right choice of words to use of course. The only problem was to accurately locate said members of Padania. This, however, was simplified by one crucial fact: low-level Padania henchmen almost exclusively wore blue clothing.

Several potential targets were identified almost immediately and Giulio set out to contact the closest one. While the sight of an elderly man sitting on a park bench and feeding birds with bits of bread may seem inconspicuous, in Giulio's eyes the brightest spotlight in the world was pointed at the man.

He introduced himself with: "Excuse me, my name is Giulio and I'm new into town."

"So?"

"I was just wondering," Giulio said as he sat next to the man, "If you knew a good place to have a few drinks…"

"Hmph!" The man grunted as he tossed the rest of his bread crumbs onto the ground, "What lies beyond the furthest reaches of memory?"

Giulio smiled, and answered, "The place where all were born and to where all will return."

Immediately the man stood and began to walk away. At first, Giulio thought he had given the wrong answer since it had been a while since he last hard this poem, and even though the man signaled for him to follow, there was still doubt cast within the back of his mind. For all Giulio knew, he may have answered wrongly and is currently walking into a trap.

It didn't help ease him much either to see that the bar the man was leading him too was of the risqué types; a strip club. Without any hassle from several bouncers and guards, the two of them weaved between the empty seats of the club. With it being the morning hours, only the worst of the worst kinds of men and perverts were inside, and Giulio didn't like being a part of their daily routine. Yet another disturbance was the handful of "workers" that would occasionally confront him and ask if he would like a private dance.

With the temptations passed, they finally reached the back of the building. Standing before a split door, the man took care to allow Giulio to knock on the door, testing him to see if he knew the correct procedures and to make sure he was actually who he claimed to be. Giulio would have to gather as much knowledge about Padania and their ways if he wanted to pass the door and not leave one of the filthiest places he's ever seen.

"Well," Giulio thought to himself, "They wear blue… and the door is blue… should I talk to the door?"

All jokes aside, it literally took all his brain power to form some sort of a first step in order to open the door. He was, after all, a soldier, not a detective.

He thought to himself once more, "The wood panels on this door seem oddly placed…" and, after another second or two, he cautiously knocked five times on the fifth wooden panel from the top. Giulio's breath never left his lungs even though the door slowly opened, because after it did he was asked another question by the man behind the knob.

"Who sent you?"

Giulio smiled and responded with, "Christiano", the first name he came up with of the few Padania leaders he knew of.

The door-keep grunted and reached from an object at his side, "Don't fuck with me…"

"Hold it," Another voice came from behind the door, "I just got off the phone with Christiano and he said he sent someone over. Let him in."

"Lucky…" The door-keep mumbled.

The meeting he stumbled upon turned out to be chock full of information that could be used to pinpoint the location of Padania's so-called "Cyborg project". The meeting also gave a hint to the whereabouts of the second objective during his stay in Bolzano: To locate the man who attempted to bug Elsa and Rico. Apparently, as the story goes, that particular man was the best agent in the north and was the second choice of every mafia boss and Padania leader when something needed to be done quickly and efficiently (The #1 choice being a young man called "Pinocchio").

"So what's the story with you?" The man who allowed Giulio to enter asked after the meeting was adjourned.

"Eh?" Giulio pointed to himself in an innocent fashion.

"Yeah you. Why did Christiano send you here?"

"Oh, well, he just wanted to keep up with what was going on here, that's all."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Well, I have to report to him now, so I'll show myself out."

"Hold on," The door-keep said, "Listen, we sorta got off on the wrong foot, ya know? The guys and I are going to grab a few drinks. There's a phone here, so why don't you call Christiano and report to him right now? Come on, my treat."

Giulio gulped, "Really guys, I appreciate the offer but…"

"But what?"

He gulped, "You know what? I'll take you up on that offer. It's been a long morning anyways."

Reluctantly, Giulio picked up the secured land-line phone and entered a few numbers (The others didn't know he dialed Jean's cell phone number instead).

"Yo! Christiano!" Giulio said with a hearty laugh.

"What? Who is this?" A confused Jean replied.

"Hey, I just got finished with the meeting. I'll have a full report by the time I get back, but everything seems fine so far."

"Who the hell…?"

"Yeah!" Giulio continued, "It seems that the first cyborg is about to roll of the line within a few days."

"…Go on." Jean finally caught on.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it for now. Yeah. Yeah. Alright, I'll see you then."

With that, his ordeal was over. Everything that Giulio and his men needed was practically sung to him by several bards, and without even realizing it, the information was passed on within the next few minutes. A lucky day for Giulio indeed.

…Considering his lack of detective skills, that is.


	8. Chapter 8

_**The Ghosts of Rome**_

_**A **__**Gunslinger Girl**__** fan fiction by:**_

_**Sintendo**_

_**Chapter 8**_

It was an odd feeling knowing that somebody else was in your house, sleeping in what used to be your office. It wasn't like the feeling one gets when they hear some sounds coming from the kitchen (which was, ironically, the sounds that rose me awake) because I knew that it was just Tobias walking to the bathroom. The only other way I can put this feeling into words is this: In the 15 or so years that I've been living alone, my house finally felt like a home.

…Or something like that.

Before we left the hospital yesterday evening, I was told that Tobias would have a bit of difficulty moving about since he was motionless for a few weeks. He had no trouble walking to and from my car, nor did he have any trouble eating the roasted chicken I bought for last nights dinner, but the shattering of glass from the bathroom reminded me, or rather proved to me that he was still getting used to reanimating himself.

"Are you alright?" I shouted out.

After a few grunts he answered, "Y-yes. I just tripped, that's all."

I knocked on the bathroom door, "May I come in?"

"Yeah."

The blood on the floor was the first thing I noticed upon entering the room. Second in my sight was Tobias who crouched over the bathtub, clutching his right foot in his hands. I winced with him as blood slowly trickled through his fingers and audibly pattered onto the ceramic tub. The broken glass was the farthest thing from my mind.

"Let me see that," I motioned from him to come toward me, or rather have him raise his leg for me to be able to see his foot. After examining the gash on his foot, I sat with him at the edge of the bathtub, quickly getting to work by cleaning the wound. He didn't flinch once as I poked and prodded the wound to make sure no glass was stuck within, "That doesn't hurt?"

"No," He said, "I'm sorry for troubling you."

"It's no trouble at all," I chuckled, "It's probably my fault; the doctors said you'd have a hard time handling delicate objects, so I should have replaced the glass cups with plastic ones."

"I'm sorry…" He said one more.

"Like I said, it's not your fault. It's mine," I reassured him. Then I realized that I was messing around with the wound a little too much, practically digging underneath the exposed tissue, "Are you sure I'm not hurting you?"

He shook his head, "It hurts," He said, "But since you're helping me, I'm not thinking about the pain."

What a strange child.

* * *

I don't know what possessed me to bring Tobias over to work today and I don't think anyone around my desk minded his presence, but I felt it was the right thing to do. The people that surrounded me were like my family and to leave them in the shadows about the existence of my "new" son (My god it's a strange feeling to say that) would only lead to some sort of conflict when the boy was inevitably found out. After all, during any type of sortie they were the ones who'd be watching my rear. Any kind of distraction reduces the chances of me finishing the day alive.

The trek to begin my day was that of a normal one. I had a cup o coffee, picked up required documents, and eventually found my way to my corner of the Government's cage; all in a day's work for a guardian of finance. It was beginning to feel odd to have Tobias follow and watch me all day as my silent shadow, so it was a blessing to have Lt. Vito stop by.

"Hey guys," He said with a nonchalant attitude, "Hey Tobias, nice to see you're up now."

"Hello," the boy said meekly.

"How are you feeling? Have any trouble walking?" Rico wasn't given a response from the boy, "The silent type, eh? Well, I can't blame you." He then said to me, "You know, I recall the doctor saying he'd have trouble with his memories. Did Tobias mention anything to you yet?"

I replied the truth, "No Rico, not really and I'd rather not ask him. In any case, I don't think it's worth bringing up right now. Is Tatiana around?"

"Hmm? No, she came by to pick up some new orders. Apparently the parents of one of the kids we found a while ago suddenly resurfaced, or something like that," He then whispered to me, "Don't worry, they didn't claim Tobias."

"Who said I was worried?" I recoiled.

"I'm just saying, is all. Hey, is it alright if I show the boy around? Let him meet the others?"

"I see no harm in that," I said, and then to Tobias, "Behave, alright?"

The boy peered upon me with sad eyes, "I won't mind standing around here for a while," He said, "I hardly know anyone here, and—"

"All the more a reason to take you around," Rico said, "No reason to be shy, boy, we don't bite."

"Go on," I encouraged him, "You'd get bored just watching me fill out a bunch of papers anyway."

And so after a little more persuading and a bit of arguing, Tobias agreed to take a small tour of the office building, at least for only an hour or two. When I finished with the first batch of papers needed to be signed—involving a certain medical leave for a certain someone—I began to wonder where exactly those two would be by now. No doubt Rico already passed by the entrance to introduce Tobias to the security guards and countless office ladies downstairs. There was a good chance that they've already been to the cafeteria, probably picking up a drink or a snack to go along with the tour. In any case their current position served only as a small distraction for me, so I shook off the ideas and continued work.

I hadn't realized how much time had passed until Rico and Tobias hailed to me just as I was signing the last set of my day's paperwork. It would be untruthful for me to say that I was able to get everything done without any trouble.

I assumed with the extra hours I unknowingly allowed to pass without notice that Rico took Tobias outside of the premises. A shopping bag filled with various goods was proof enough.

"Had fun?" I asked, ignoring the fact that they broke their promise of returning on time.

"Oh definitely!" The boy said with much enthusiasm.

I asked Rico, "She where'd you guys go?"

"Oh, here and there." He sweetened the lie.

"Right, here, there, and everywhere. You could have at least called me."

"I didn't think you'd be too worried about him."

"Well I should be. Doctor said he'd have trouble moving around."

Tobias chimed in, "I had no trouble at all! I had a lot of fun actually. Uncle Rico took me to the shooting range and we used some of his guns."

"Shooting range? Uncle?" I frowned. More-so with the latter reaction."

Rico laughed, "The boy's a natural. I started him off with a little plinker and by the end of the session he was firing .45 revolvers."

"You weren't hurt, were you?" I asked Tobias.

"No, it was fun!" He said, "Look, I even saved my targets."

The word "Impressed" wouldn't even begin to describe my reaction: almost every one of his 20 or so human silhouette targets had it's chest completely hollowed out.

"Impressive," I said nonetheless, "You like target shooting?"

"Yes." Tobias said.

"You should buy him a target rifle," Rico said, "He's a natural born killer, this one."

* * *

"He couldn't stop talking?" Tatiana said, "That's not a bad thing."

Thankfully we were on the phone, else I would have been scolded for my grimace, "He couldn't stop talking about shooting this and shooting that. I'll have to teach him the rules of firearms."

"That's all part of being a father."

I cringed, "Right."

"What? You think he's annoying?"

"No, no, it's not that." I sighed, "It's a pleasure to be around him. Actually brings a smile to my face sometimes. It's more of a feeling of…"

"Of?"

"Well, I could say I'm a little overwhelmed. Too much is happening all at once, you know? I just want things to slow down a bit."

"Are you regretting everything? Regretting adopting the boy?"

"No." I answered with confidence.

"Then what's the problem?"

"I feel like I hardly know him."

Her deafening laughter didn't help to raise my spirits, "Oh my god, Giulio! You _don't _know him! What makes you think you do?"

I had no response.

"You should take some time off; I'm sure they'll allow you a few days. Look, if you want we can take him around the city, or maybe out to the country."

"'We'?"

"Yes 'We'. I'll help you get to know him more than if you two were alone. A third person can act as a buffer."

"I suppose."

"Great," She yelped, "I have the perfect place in mind."

"And where would that be?"

"Bolzano!"


End file.
